


Harana

by smoothmovebro



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Bilingual Character(s), Courtship, Filipino Character, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Miscommunication, michael is a sappy romantic and jeremy loves it, serenading as a form of apology and love confession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-31 04:16:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12674232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoothmovebro/pseuds/smoothmovebro
Summary: Harana(serenade) -noun- a musical composition, and/or performance, in someone's honorIn Filipino tradition, the suitor will visit the house of the girl he is trying to woo, and sing by her window until she comes out to either accept or deny him.This, however, is not Filipino tradition. In fact, it's not even happening in the Philippines.This is a boy in New Jersey standing in front of another boy, singing with his beat up guitar, asking him to love him.





	Harana

**Author's Note:**

> written for nanowrimo 2017  
> i've been waiting to write this prompt bc i've always wanted to write a fic that focuses on filipino!michael. as a filipino myself, writing this fic is really important to me and how i express my heritage.  
> translations will be provided in parenthesis during the fic.

“ _Bunso! Halika nga rito_!” (Youngest child! Come here!)

Michael emerges from his room and heeds his mom’s call from the dining room. “ _Opo_?” (Yes?)

Michael’s mom makes a beckoning gesture by making a sweeping motion towards herself with her palm down. Michael sits himself beside her at the dining table.

“Your friend, Jeremy,” she continues in Tagalog. “How long have you known each other?”

“Twelve years,” Michael replies in English. “Ma, is there something you want to say?”

She shakes her head and leans back, flipping open her book. “I just think it’s about time you _harana_ him.”

Michael sputters. “To Jeremy? But he’s a boy! And like,” he gesticulates, “we’re not _like_ that.”

Michael’s sister walks into the dining room and grabs food from the fridge. “You’re so gay for that white boy it’s not even funny,” she says offhandedly.

“ _Ate!_ ” (Older sister!) Michael says. “Not you too!”

His sister shrugs. “Try an old song,” she says before leaving the room.

Michael thumps his head on the table. “Am I that obvious?” he asks his mom.

She laughs. “Your father was just like you when he was your age. Every day, we would talk under the mango tree in the field near my house and he would point out all the stars to me when it got dark.” She hides a smile behind her book. “Of course, when it got dark, your father would-”

Michael covers his ears and closes his eyes. “Okay, thank you for the story!” he says. She stops.

“What I’m saying is that you’ve been courting him for so long that you don’t even know how to formally express your love where it matters.”

Michael unblocks his ears and opens his eyes. He inches his chair closer to his mom. “ _Po_?” (Pardon?)

“Yes, it’s nice to express your love in more subtle ways like being there for the person in times of hardship or showing them support when they try to reach their goals,” his mom explains. “But then sometimes there are things that need to be said outright. You’re all grown up now, so I’m confident you can find the right way to say how much you love Jeremy.”

At that, Michael fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “The guitar sounds a bit cheesy,” he says. “And I only know the songs you’ve taught me.”

His mom clicks her tongue multiple times. It makes Michael curl in on himself, shuddering at the sound. “Excuses, excuses!” she says with a fond shake of her head. “The whole _point_ is to be cheesy. Because cheesy is sincere. And you can try translating the songs I’ve taught you; it’s good practice for you.”

“T-translating a full Tagalog song?” Michael repeats. “How will I get the message right? Will I even find the right words?”

“Ask your brother, he’s the one who came first in his Filipino class.”

Michael heeds his mom’s advice and goes up to his brother’s room. He knocks on the door. “ _Kuya?_ ” (Older brother?)

The door opens and Michael walks in. He sits on the foot of his brother’s bed. He sees that his older brother is hunched over his laptop, typing up a college research paper.

“Can you help me with my _harana_ to Jeremy?” Michael asks after a long silence. His question makes his brother stop typing and swivel in his chair to face Michael.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear that from you,” his brother says.

“You too?” Michael says. He buries his face in his hands. “I’m so fucked.”

His brother laughs and puts an arm around his shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’ll be okay. I’ve _harana-_ ed many times before. The key is to make it look casual.” He drifts away from his brother on his chair to go back to typing on his laptop.

“What song do you have in mind?” he asks over his shoulder. Michael shrugs.

“Mom said to translate one of the songs I know on guitar.”

His brother snaps his fingers. “That’s a great idea! And you’re asking me to help make an English version, yes?”

Michael nods. His brother grins.

“You will knock the socks off of this guy, I guarantee it!” He waves a hand to ask Michael to fetch his guitar.

* * *

“Michael? Where are you going?” Jeremy asks.

Michael is taking off his hoodie and stuffing it in his bag. “I’ll tell you soon, yeah? I promise!” he says while rushing out of school. Jeremy cocks his head.

“Wonder what’s up with him…” he mutters. He hears Rich laugh from the sidelines.

“I’ve never seen a guy look like that since freshman year,” he says, launching himself from the wall he was leaning on. “You really want me to tell you?” he asks Jeremy.

“If you’ve got any bright ideas, sure.”

Rich leans up and puts his right hand to the left side of his mouth, like he’s whispering some secret to Jeremy. “My best guess is he’s gonna confess his love to someone.”

Jeremy flinches. “His love?! He’s never told me anything about anyone he likes.”

Rich laughs. “You’re in for a mess, dude. This chick – or guy, no judgement, totally bi here - must’ve gotten real deep under Michael’s skin.” He saunters away and waves. “Good luck sorting shit between you two.”

Jeremy watches Rich leave and turns the other way to walk home.

* * *

“How about the song [Ngiti](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BUGc_54sHRs)?” (Smile) Michael’s brother asks. Michael shakes his head.

“A bit… too much for what I want to say.”

“[Panalangin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GpSjnYgi134)?” (Prayer) his brother offers. “It’s a classic.”

“It’s so repetitive!”

His brother clicks his tongue. “You’ve got tough standards.”

“I just want to get this right, you know?”

Michael fills the silence of the two brothers in thought with an absent tune he knows by muscle memory. His fingers press and glide across the worn wood of the fretboard, making the guitar sing out a melody as mellow as the wood of the guitar.

His brother hums along to the tune of the guitar, then his face brightens up. “You’re a genius!” he says.

Michael looks up. “What?”

“We keep it simple! [Harana](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vf4WpFE47fs)! Literally _Harana_ by Parokya ni Edgar!” (Serenade)

Michael stares at his guitar, then back up at his brother. A smile slowly forms across his cheeks. “That’s it!”

His brother whoops and he pumps his fist. “We’ll pull up the lyrics and we’ll see what we can do from there, okay?” He rolls his chair to his laptop and pulls up the lyrics. He brings out a pen and a fresh sheet of paper and starts translating the lyrics.

Michael peers over his brother’s shoulder and translates the lyrics on the screen for himself in his head. After a verse, he would look down at his brother’s translation to check for errors. He nods in satisfaction when he sees that he gets all the verses right with few to no incidents of error. _Still got it_.

Once his brother finishes translating the song, Michael asks, “Shouldn’t we make it fit the music?”

Michael’s brother nods. “That we do. Which is where _you_ come in,” he says while using the sheet of paper to gesture at Michael. “It has to come from you because you are the one who’s trying to send a message here.”

Michael takes the paper from his brother’s hands and inspects the literal translation. He skims over to the chorus:

> _The sky is full of stars_
> 
> _And how cold the wind is_
> 
> _A look from you and I go crazy with happiness_
> 
> _And from this song of mine_
> 
> _I hope you understand that_
> 
> _I will pour out my whole heart_
> 
> _Into one small serenade for you_

Michael opens his mouth to ask his brother to play the song, but he already hears the guitar chords that introduce the song. “Take your time,” his brother says.

Michael sings the new lyrics to the tune of the melody but finds that the words don’t slot well with the beat. He takes a pencil, leans over his brother to pause the song, then scribbles his own annotations to the paper.

“Eight… ten… eight again… flowing into nine…” He counts the number of syllables per line and writes it on the margins. He continues the song to get a grasp of the rhythm, then pauses again to write some more of his notes on the paper. After several minutes of pondering and asking his brother to clarify if he’s thinking of the right word, Michael shows his brother his draft of the English version of the song.

“I think you should play the original and sing the new lyrics in your head,” Michael says. His brother obliges and reads along. He smirks at the accidental rhymes Michael has made and nods at the clever inversions and linguistic deliberations for some of the lines. He lets himself sing the new lyrics for the chorus:

> _The night sky’s full of shining stars_
> 
> _And the wind brings such a chill_
> 
> _One look from you and I can’t help but thrill and swoon_
> 
> _I wish that while I’m singing this_
> 
> _You will understand that I_
> 
> _Am baring out the feelings in my heart_
> 
> _Into a little serenade I wrote for you_

Michael’s brother claps his hands and brings Michael in for a massive hug. “ _Galing-galing ng kapatid ko!_ ” (My little brother is so good!)

Michael laughs into the hug. “Do you like my version? Some of the poeticism got lost in translation but,” he trails off with a shrug. “As long as Jeremy gets the message, right?”

His brother nods. “You might need to tighten up the lyrics in these parts,” he says, pointing to a few words among the verses. “But other than that, you’re good to go.” He hands over the paper to Michael.

Taking the paper and his guitar, Michael walks out of his brother’s room and goes into his room to pore through the lyrics one more time. He brings out his phone and plays the song on repeat while polishing the rest of the lyrics.

* * *

Jeremy, blindfolded, holds out his hands in front of him. He calls out. “Michael, I swear, if this is some kind of prank-”

“Not a prank,” he hears Michael reply from a distant point. “Just let me…”

Jeremy hears the ruffling of some clothes and the accidental pluck of a guitar string. He hears Michael mutter a curse and the scraping of a chair. The chair’s scraping gets closer to him and Michael urges Jeremy to sit down. He obliges.

“Can I take off the blindfold now?”

“In a bit,” Michael replies. He hears a guitar being hoisted and the whisper of a guitar strap sliding down Michael’s chest. “Okay, you can take the blindfold off.”

Jeremy removes the fabric from his eyes and blinks to adjust to the light. They’re in Michael’s basement and Michael looks…

“What’s with the getup?” Jeremy asks. Michael gestures proudly at his shirt.

“This is a barong. It’s traditional formalwear back in the Philippines.” He scratches at his neck. “Kinda itchy and really sheer but I can see why, considering that it gets really hot back there.”

“But why are you wearing it? And what’s with the guitar?”

Michael takes a deep breath. “Jeremy, I’m sorry I haven’t been talking to you lately. But I was busy preparing this for you.”

“For me? What-”

“We have a tradition back at home where a man has to sing outside his suitor’s window as a form of courtship. The suitor comes to the window and from there, she can either accept or reject him.”

Michael looks around the small space of the basement.

“But this isn’t a very traditional setup so I’m making this up as I go.”

Jeremy starts to slot the pieces together. “Michael, are you-”

Michael interrupts him by starting the song. He strums out the chords of the intro and takes a deep breath to sing.

> _“Is it still cool to sing love songs?_
> 
> _You’re probably wondering how it got to this_
> 
> _And why is this guy singing at me?_
> 
> _His nerves are getting the best of him_
> 
> _And he’s stumbling over the words”_

Jeremy laughs at the lyrics and smiles appreciatively at the warm and cheesy gesture. He starts to look star struck by the time Michael gets to the chorus, gazing in awe at the poetic imagery of the lyrics.

Michael finishes the song with a resounding chord and bows. He looks up at Jeremy. “What did you think?” he asks, suddenly looking bashful.

Jeremy gets up from the seat. “What does the girl do if she accepts the guy serenading to her?” he asks, getting closer to Michael.

Michael gulps and tugs at the collar of his barong. “She would… usually ask the guy to come up to her house.”

Jeremy looks around. “Like you said, this is far from tradition.” He tugs at Michael’s guitar strap and lets the other boy set it aside to lean against the wall. “So how about a modern take on it?”

Before Michael could reply, Jeremy tugs at the front of his barong and brings him in for a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are always appreciated!  
> if you're a filipino reader, mag-tagalog naman po kayo sa mga comments! <3


End file.
